


The Path From Boy To Man Is Littered With Thorns

by Tiger_Tiger_Burning_Bright



Category: Cut & Run - Madeleine Urban & Abigail Roux, Sidewinder Series - Abigail Roux
Genre: Angst, Brian O'Flaherty is the scum of the earth, Heavy Angst, Hopeful Ending, I mean I can't lie, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Late teen Nick O'flaherty, Look Nick had a horrible childhood, Nick prequel, mob style violence, spoilers for Nick's backstory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-11-07 04:07:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17953295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiger_Tiger_Burning_Bright/pseuds/Tiger_Tiger_Burning_Bright
Summary: Sometimes in life you need a little help, someone on your side when it feels like nothing is going right. Nick never expected that his guardian angel would be a notorious mob boss. But sometimes life just works out that way.





	The Path From Boy To Man Is Littered With Thorns

**Author's Note:**

> So first fic for different fandom, not scary at all, but how could I resist exploring Nick's backstory. So essentially this just came about because I adore Nick and I just needed to read more of him. Apparently that meant a one shot turning into 8k .... oops
> 
> Huge thanks to @accalia for her epic betaing (and the shouting ;-)) and to @astudyinfic for her spookily brilliant ability with summaries. Also to everyone who encouraged me to keep writing - hopefully you like it and if its any consolation hurting Nick hurt me too.

Nick O’Flaherty squared his shoulders and turned the collar up on his jacket, facing into the chill Boston wind with a look of determination on his face. Baseball practice had been a bust, not that he’d expected anything else, and the jabbing pain in his ribs hardly helped. Carefully, he prodded his side, gritting his teeth against the pain. Nothing broken this time, he was pretty sure, but there was no doubt the bruising would soon take on the colours of the rainbow. It was painful sure, but at least he could try and hide it. The black eye he was sporting, not so much. Not that Nick really cared anymore, he’d long since given up on elaborate lies to explain his injuries. Everybody knew, it was like some goddamn open secret. If anyone did ask, which they rarely did these days, he just shrugged and scowled.

At least tonight would be quieter, Brian O’Flaherty was nothing if not predictable. A beating like he’d taken last night would be enough to keep his father calm for around a week, give or take. Years of practice meant that Nick could read his father’s moods, and he could tell by the set of his shoulders last night what was coming. It gave him time to usher his sisters to the cellar, get them settled, before facing the inevitable.

Tonight, his mother would be cooking, pretending nothing had happened while simultaneously making sure Nick had all his favourite foods. As if that made it okay to look the other way as his father took his frustration out on his son with his fists.

“Nicky! Wait up.”

Nick didn't even turn his head when he heard his best friend Mikey calling out to him, though he did slow his walking a little. 

As soon as Mikey caught up with him, Nick fished a battered packet of smokes out of his pocket and offered one to his friend. Mikey just grinned and grabbed one. Nick didn't say anything as he placed a smoke between his own lips, lighting it and inhaling deeply. The nicotine tasted so much sweeter knowing where it had come from. Not only was Brian O’Flaherty a violent drunk but he also wouldn't stop drinking until he passed out. Stealing his smokes after enduring a beating was the only small bit of revenge Nick could ever get. His own, personal, ‘fuck you’ to his father.

“Hey, wanna grab a slushie? Or maybe go to the park and get wasted?” Mikey said, going to to elbow Nick in the side before stopping abruptly. An apologetic look flashed across his face so quickly Nick almost missed it, soon replaced by a half hearted grin.

“Nah, gotta get home. Ma’s cooking.”

They both knew why.

“Dammit.” Mikey muttered under his breath. 

Nick looked at him one eyebrow raised.  Mikey laughed. “Gotta date with Mary Kate McDowell.” He admitted almost sheepishly.

“Fuck, she finally gave in.” Nick laughed before taking another drag on his smoke.

“Couldn't help herself.” Mikey grinned.

“Yeah, whatever.” Nick said on an exhale, blowing out a stream of smoke with his words.

“Hey, I'll have you know I'm a charming sonofabitch when I wanna be.” 

“If you say so.” Nick shrugged. “As long as you don't want my help with your kissing technique, ‘cos I'm not fucking doing that shit again.”

“Like I need it. Student has surpassed the master.” Mikey said, indicating himself with his thumbs. 

Nick snorted out a laugh.

“Yeah, I was gonna ask for some help with the O’Flaherty charm,” Mikey grumbled, “ just remembered, you ain’t got none.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” Nick shrugged, not even slightly bothered.

The one thing they both knew was that at sixteen years old Nick already had a reputation for his way with the ladies. No one seemed resistant to his charms. What Mikey didn't know was it wasn't just the women. Nick planned to keep it that way.

“Fuck you, O’Flaherty.” Mikey laughed.

“You wish.”

“I really don't.”

“Thank fuck for that.” Nick gave an exaggerated sigh of relief.

Both of them were laughing so hard they didn't even notice the black sedan until it pulled up next to them. The tinted window on the back door dropped to reveal a face they both knew, a face that everyone in the Irish community of Boston knew. Paddy Whelan.

Nick’s smile froze on his lips and he instinctively squared his shoulders. When a mob boss stopped you on the street you damn well showed respect but Nick also knew you didn't show any weakness.

“Cold night for you lads.” Paddy called out. 

Beside him Nick felt Mikey shrink back almost imperceptibly. Nick just stood taller and looked Paddy straight in the eye. Apparently it was the right move judging by the smile playing at Paddy’s lips.

“You didn't hit back. Big lad like you could've done some damage I bet.” Paddy nodded towards Nick’s black eye before glancing down to his hands which showed no sign of damage.

“Yeah,” Nick shrugged. “Thing is Paddy, I got more important than me to take care of.”

Paddy laughed.

“How’s about I do you a favour. I’ll look out for those you got indoors.” He said. 

Nick schooled his features as he waited for the price, because there would always be a price. 

“I could always make use of a couple of strong lads to look out for me.”

Nick tilted his head to one side to mull things over. He knew enough about Paddy’s business to know it would be dirty work but if that’s what it took to keep his sisters safe it was worth the sacrifice.

“I’ll give you pair of chuckleheads a lift home and we can come to an arrangement.” Paddy said, not a doubt in his mind that they’d accept. He wasn't the kind of man who was used to be turned down Nick supposed.

After a glance towards Mikey to check how his friend was doing, Nick nodded sharply and the pair walked towards the car.

……….

Five days. 

Not enough time for bruises to fully heal but enough time for Brian O’Flaherty to find out about Nick’s arrangement with Paddy Whelan. Nick had expected more time, had hoped for more time. In a way it was almost a relief. Nick had always hated secrets; they pricked at his conscience like splinters imbedded in his soul and now, at least, he would be free of that feeling. Nonetheless he’d thought it would take a while for his father to find out, after all he’d only run one small errand for Paddy so far, just delivered a message. Nick knew that it had been a test of his loyalty and he hadn’t expected it to be enough for his father to hear about. 

As soon as his father stepped through the door it was obvious Nick’s time had run out. Worse still his father’s rage seemed more explosive than usual, his hands closing into fists before his coat even hit the floor.

“You know what to do.” Nick hissed at his sister, Kat, who was cowering behind him. She nodded silently, eyes wide and filling with tears.

“Kat.” There was an edge of desperation in his voice as his sister stood frozen in fear. It was enough to get her moving.

“Paddy Whelan!” Brian O’Flaherty shouted, his nostrils flaring. “My own son doing jobs for Paddy fucking Whelan!”

He advanced towards Nick, the air of menace coming off him in waves. Nick saw his father’s eyes flick to the retreating form of his sister for a second and his veins filled with ice. He had to buy her more time.

“Yeah.” He looked his father straight in the eyes, chin raised defiantly. He knew just the thing to light the touchpaper, the last thing Paddy always said to him. “He said to send his regards to Ma.”

The first punch was so fast he didn't even have time to brace himself before it knocked him off his feet. Through the ringing in his ears he heard Kat scream and he prayed she’d just keep moving.

“You stay away from Paddy Whelan. You hear me boy?” His father growled, his eyes flashing with anger but behind that there was something else, something that spurred Nick on. Fear.

“No.” Nick spat out as the blood dripped from his newly split lip.

The last thing he heard was the sound of his sister’s running feet before the punches and kicks came raining down and pain eclipsed everything else.

……..

Paddy hummed under his breath as he grasped Nick’s chin and turned his face towards the window so he could fully appreciate the bruises starting to bloom on his cheek. He didn't say a word, his face an unreadable mask as he let go and stalked over to his desk and pushed the intercom.

“Tell O’Dowell to bring the car. Nicky and I need to take a little trip.” He said, his voice calm and filled with authority.

“Paddy?” Nick tried to keep the tremor out of his voice, the uncertainty as to Paddy’s plan unsettling him. Was he planning on confronting his father? If so Nick wasn't sure that was something he wanted to see. Or maybe he did. It was hard to be sure. 

“The world will always judge you, treat you how you look. Right now you look like a thug, a common street brawler. We need to fix that kiddo.” Paddy answered, his normal jovial manner firmly back in place.

Nick didn't say anything else as they made their way to to the waiting car.

Finally they arrived at their destination, the sort of high end tailors Nick had never dared to look at, let alone enter. The staff inside greeted them as if they were royalty, studiously avoiding looking at Nick’s beaten up jeans and t-shirt with the disdain he knew they’d feel. Nick found himself ushered into a back room, where a sharply dressed man, tape measure draped around his neck, waited for them.

“Nicholas, this is Mr Hawkes. Let’s just say Saville Row’s loss is Boston’s gain.” Paddy said by way of explanation as he nodded his head to indicate Nick should step forward.

Hawkes looked at him appraisingly, his gaze reminiscent of an eagle sizing up his prey making his name seem surprisingly appropriate to Nick. He was a wiry man with dark slicked back hair threaded with grey, and sharp features. His shirt sleeves were rolled up but every other part of his outfit, from the tight fitting vest to the perfectly tailored suit pants was absolutely pristine.

Hawkes hummed, deep in thought as he walked slowly around Nick, running his professional eye over his tall frame. 

“He’s a big lad for his age, broad shoulders. Tall too.” Hawkes observed. Paddy nodded almost proudly.

Hawkes moved over to a side table and delicately picked up a notebook and pencil.

“I'm thinking single breasted, two buttons and definitely no pinstripes. Did you have any thought on colours Mr Whelan.” Hawkes continued as scribbled notes in his little book.

Nick stood frozen to the spot feeling like little more than a mannikin. There was no way he’d be able to afford even a fucking tie in a place like this, let alone a tailored suit.

“I was thinking light grey perhaps, three piece and a few jackets as well. I’ll leave the details up to you, I know you won't let me down.” Paddy said as a young woman hurried towards him, a cut glass tumbler filled with what looked like whiskey, clutched in her hand. “And get the boy some shoes as well. Looks like a goddamn hooligan at the moment.”

Hawkes nodded and beckoned the young woman over, reeling off a list of materials for her to fetch so long it made Nick’s head spin. Things were spiralling out of control too quickly for his liking.

“Oh and Hawkes. I want no expense spared, just put it all on my account.” Paddy added, clearly sensing Nick’s discomfort.

“Of course Mr Whelan.” Came the smooth reply as he got to work wrapping his tape measure around Nick and jotting down a seemingly endless series of measurements.

Finally, after what felt like hours of being poked and prodded, Hawkes seemed satisfied. Nick breathed a sigh of relief only to see him descending with a huge stack of fabrics. Nick huffed an exasperated sigh and in the background Paddy snorted out a laugh.

Eventually, though it was over and Paddy got to his feet, a sure indication it was time to leave.

“When they’re done I want them delivered to this address.” Paddy scrawled down and address in Hawkes’ notebook and, glancing across, Nick saw it was his.

He’d always been so careful, always ensured he’d been dropped off round the corner from his home but of course it hadn't mattered. Nothing escaped Paddy’s notice.

“Nicholas, trust me. There won't be a problem.” There was so much certainty in Paddy’s voice that Nick didn't doubt his words for a second.

…….

Looking back it was almost embarrassing that it took Nick nearly four months to see the difference in how Paddy treated him. It had been so easy at the time to explain away things at the time rather than give them deeper meaning, but when he looked at the larger pattern, it became impossible to ignore.

It had started with the suits and the odd way Paddy had looked at him, almost with pride, the first time Nick had worn one. Then again, Mikey had been forced into smartening up as well and at the time Nick had put it down to Paddy making a point to his father. Making it clear to Brian O’Flaherty who owned his son now. It wasn't a comfortable thought, but it was one he understood. Nick had dealt with it because it had meant that the beating has become less frequent, and, when they inevitably did come Brian O’flaherty had seemed to stick with body blows that were easily concealed. It had made all the compromises Nick had had to make more easy to bear, more manageable to ignore the constant prickling of his conscience however much it hurt his soul.

Then, there was the way the other men treated him. On the increasingly rare occasions Nick saw Mikey outside of school he was always in the middle of a group of raucous mobsters, intent on teasing him on being under Mary Katherine’s thumb. Mikey would always try and include Nick, teasing him about his latest hook up. The response from the other men was lukewarm at best and the subject was always rapidly changed, usually with some sort of half-hearted joke.

Initially it was a relief, Nick really didn't want to have attention shone onto his sex life. There were women, sure, lots of women; Nick was, after all a sixteen year old man who’d discovered that sex was the ultimate escape from his ever churning mind. He had good looks and a broad body and it was never an issue to find a willing dance partner to blow off steam with. What Nick didn't want them to know was that every now and then, when his conscience was niggling him so badly it was almost a physical pain, his only escape was a bar on the outskirts of the city. A bar where it was easy to find some guy more than happy to be used by Nick to fuck his pain away. Men who didn't want their identity known anymore than he did.

If that had been all, Nick would’ve undoubtedly written it off but, as the weeks rolled into months, the difference between how he and MIkey were treated became too pronounced to ignore. Where Mikey was tasked with little more than errands and the occasional stint as back up for an enforcer, Nick was becoming more and more immersed in the inner workings of the Mob. Paddy Whelan himself seemed to have taken a personal interest in Nick’s development. When Paddy went to the shooting range, Nick always went with him, ostensibly to train him with a gun. It wasn't something he really needed. His father had insisted he’d learned to shoot when he was a boy, deeming it something every man should know. Nick rarely missed, he remembered far too well all the childhood beatings when he’d failed to reach his father’s exacting standards. It didn't stop there though, Paddy had him training with his closest bodyguards, honing Nick into a weapon for the mob to use.

Then there were the jobs themselves. Not only did Paddy expect Nick to be a part of the planning but he never failed to ask him for his input. At first Nick put it down to the fact that his father was a cop, that perhaps Paddy thought he had some sort of inside knowledge, but over time it became clear that it was more than that. Paddy appeared to be grooming him for leadership and Nick couldn't quite work out why. Why him?

Curiosity has always been both Nick’s curse and blessing in life, and once he’d fully accepted the difference it became impossible to ignore; it was a mystery he had to solve. Eventually something had to give.

In the end it was Paddy that offered up the opening for Nick’s questions to be answered.

“You look troubled, kiddo.” He observed as he poured over some ledgers, Nick his only companion.

Nick shook his head, not knowing where to begin.

“Don't lie to me boy.” There was a sharper edge to Paddy’s voice that made Nick take notice. “We won't get far without honesty.”

“You treat me different. To Mikey, to the others.” Nick said, looking Paddy straight in the eye. 

Paddy’s lips quirked and he looked almost proud.

“I do,” he said, “you’re a smart lad, I knew you’d figure it out.”

“Is that why? ‘Cos you think I'm smart?” Nick asked, his brows scrunched. It didn't feel like enough of a reason, not nearly enough.

Paddy smiled enigmatically, his only response was to call for his driver.

“I think it’s time you and I went for a little field trip, Nicky.” Paddy stood, returning the ledger to the safe and closing it carefully.

Nick nodded and followed him to the waiting car, knowing better than to push for answers.

“See here.” Paddy said as they stepped out of the car at their destination, the first words he’d said to Nick since they started to drive. Two burly bodyguards flanked them as the walked. “Here’s where I grew up.”

Nick glanced around his surroundings, he knew it well. It was an older part of Boston, one that was gradually being regenerated to to encourage a better class of resident.

“A lot’s changed since then.” Paddy said, almost wistfully as he led them to the dilapidated gates of an overgrown park.

“You two, stay here.” Paddy instructed the two bodyguards. They took their positions either side of the gate without a word.

“Right here’s the park I used to play in. Not much to look at these days.” Paddy said as he led them to an ancient looking bench, still solid despite it’s years, the only indication of its age was the paint peeling off it. 

The park was small, little more than a grassy square dominated by an old children’s playground, now rusted and neglected. The whole place felt strangely filled with the ghosts of the past.

“I bought this place years ago. The city keeps wanting it regenerated but they won't get their way on my watch.” Paddy said as he sat down and indicated for Nick to join him. “Does a man good to remember the old ways never last. This place reminds me of that.”

Nick wasn't sure whether to respond or not. Paddy continued before he had to worry.

“Every organisation needs new blood Nicky, otherwise it’ll die out just like this park.” He said,his voice melancholy. “I had hoped for my son to take over one day, but..”

Nick had heard the story, everyone in Boston had. Only son of boston mob boss killed by a drunk driver, it was the kind of story that spread like wildfire. It didn't make it any easier to hear the pain in Paddy’s voice as he spoke.

“Why me?” Nick said without really thinking. It was the question that had been burning in his mind for weeks now. The missing piece of the puzzle.

“Ah you’re a sharp one Nicky. It’s in your blood.” Paddy said with a half smile. “Your Ma was just the same, back in the day.”

There was a fondness to Paddy’s voice that set Nick’s brain whirring. He looked at Paddy who met his gaze, an eyebrow raised as if challenging Nick to work it out.

“How well did you know my Ma?” Nick asked, suspecting he already knew the answer. He felt a fool for not seeing it earlier.

Paddy smiled at him and Nick saw the same green eyes he saw in the mirror everyday looking back at him.

“Well enough, kiddo, well enough.” Paddy replied enigmatically.

“So..” Nick’s tongue felt thick in his mouth as he struggled for the words to confirm what he already knew in his gut.

“There’s a reason Brian O’Flaherty hates you, son.” 

The words hit Nick like a sucker punch, driving out all other thoughts.

“He knows.” Nick gritted out.

“Ah, now that I can't say for sure,” Paddy replied with a shrug, “I was already caught up in this life back then and your Ma, she wanted no part of it. She married O’Flaherty in no time at all. Always was a resourceful woman that one.”

Nick nodded, wondering just how desperate she must have been to marry Brian O’Flaherty of all men.

“She wanted it kept a secret, that much I do know. I've always respected that.” Paddy said, a slight furrow to his brow. “And now with Paddy Jr gone there’s those that might take issue were they to find out.”

Although the words were said casually, Nick had no doubt as to the meaning behind them. If people found out he was heir to the throne he may as well paint a target on his back. He nodded his head sharply.

Paddy looked down to his hands which were resting on his thighs. He smiled a little.

“Still there’s something you should have,” he said removing a gold Claddagh ring from his finger and handing it over. “This ring belonged to your great-grandaddy, brought it over with him from Ireland. Only right you should have it.”

Nick took the ring, looking at it as it sat in the palm of his hand as he processed Paddy’s words.

“I expect you’ll be needing some time kiddo. I’ll leave you to it for now.” Paddy placed a hand on Nick’s shoulder briefly before standing up. “I'm guessing you’ll be alright getting back?”

“Yeah.” Nick said, eyes fixed on the ring in his hand, mind swimming with all it represented. Instinctively he put it on his finger and looked up at Paddy. “I’ll be fine.”

“That you will son, that you will.” Paddy said before leaving Nick alone with his thoughts.

**……**

The weeks and months after talking to Paddy stayed largely the same, not that Nick had expected anything else, not really. His immersion into the inner workings of the Mob progressed exactly as it had, gradual and continuous. The difference now was that he knew it was his curse from birth to follow this path. He went from assisting with jobs to running them, being given more and more say. Nick hated it, hated the way that everything he did seemed to chip away at his soul. It felt like one day, not too far away, there’d be nothing left of him at all, just the hollow, unfeeling, shell that used to be Nick O’Flaherty.

Some days it became almost unbearable. Those were the days he’d watch his sisters and remember why he was doing what he was. Brian O’Flaherty’s angry outbursts were becoming less and less frequent and he could see his sisters gaining more and more confidence. Nick was slowly destroying himself, but he’d do that a thousand times over to see his sisters smile.

The days began to blur, the jobs faded into each other and everyday he lost himself a little more. He made more trips to the out of town bar, took more and more risks. It didn't help.

The other men in the organisation seemed to change their attitude to him as the months passed by, moving from suspicion to something akin to respect. Although it was a gradual process, over time, Nick found more and more of them coming to him to ask for his opinion. The worst part about it, for Nick at least, was that many of them he grew to like, looking past their propensity for violence with increasing ease.

There was one exception, Sean Doyle, Paddy’s nephew. There was something about the man that just felt off, although Nick couldn't quite say what it was. One thing he did know was whatever Nick was doing Sean always seemed to get involved, never threatening or undermining, if anything friendly. Far too friendly. Logically Sean should hate him, as Paddy’s oldest nephew he was the natural successor to his uncle and it was obvious to everyone that Nick had come from apparently nowhere to usurp that role. Perhaps Nick would've understood if Sean had been lacking in ambition, if somehow he was relieved to have responsibility taken away from him, but the opposite seemed true, with everyone else Sean seemed to thrive on throwing his weight around. Nick just knew, deep in his gut, there was something going on. Not that he ever said anything, Nick knew how much Paddy loved his nephew and all he had was his instinctive suspicion. Nick, however, had never been able to resist a mystery.

As he started to looking into things, a picture began to form of small, almost imperceptible disparities. The sort of thing that would be easily missed if you weren't actively looking for them, but each one built on the previous one until it became crystal clear; Sean Doyle was skimming from the accounts and, worse still, it looked like he was only targeting areas where Nick was involved. He was being set up as the fall guy. It was still nowhere near enough to go to Paddy with, there was no way to link it to Sean. Nick only hoped he’d have enough time to get cast iron evidence.

As it turned out he didn't, not really, but not for the reasons he'd feared. 

It had started with a party, or more specifically  _ his _ party, a party to celebrate his and Mikey’s high school graduation. Although Nick knew it was something people normally celebrated, for him it just felt as if the walls were closing in. He’d enjoyed school for the most part, enjoyed learning especially history, and he had the sort of brain that soaked up knowledge like a sponge. He could easily have been a straight A student but, to his teachers frustration, he'd never really bothered to try. Really what was the point? It wasn't as if he had any chance of going to college. That was the sort of dream that belonged to others, not him.

So no, graduation wasn't a cause for celebration, it was just the moment when Nick would have to give up the last little bit of freedom he had. His parents would expect him to get a job, support the family, play his role. Paddy Whelan would expect him to give his full attention to the day to day running of the Irish Mob. Nick was more trapped than ever.

Then there was the fact that Nick was still surprised that Paddy had even considered a party, that he’d gone so far as to hire out a restaurant for the event. It wasn't something Nick was used to. He’d had birthday parties when he was very young. Parties that were supposed to be filled with joy but usually ended up with screaming matches and Nick cowering under his bed covers trying to muffle his mother’s cries. It had been a relief when his father had declared that parties were for children and from then on every milestone event in Nick’s life had passed without fanfare. He’d been twelve years old.

Paddy, it seemed, unlike his father, embraced every opportunity to celebrate. He also had a flagrant disregard for laws on drinking age. Nick had lost count of how many people had come up to congratulate him, each one pushing drinks into his hand. Thankfully he’d been blessed with an unnaturally high tolerance for alcohol but it wasn't quite enough. With all the booze running through his system it was almost impossible for him to mask his hatred of Sean, especially as the man continued to insinuate himself into near on every conversation Nick had.

In any other circumstance, Nick’s implacable facade, albeit one that was somewhat blurred with alcohol, would’ve been enough but Paddy Whelan hadn't survived as long as he had without being observant.

“Not a fan of our Sean are we Nicky?” Paddy said lightheartedly, almost jokingly, as he placed an arm around Nick’s shoulder. Nick knew better than to take the words at face value. You only had to look at Paddy’s face to see that there was more to it than that.

“No.” He replied meeting Paddy’s eyes. There really was no point in lying.

“And why would that be kiddo?” Paddy asked, leaning in close so only Nick could hear him above the raucous noise of the others.

“I have my reasons Paddy.” Nick glanced over Paddy’s shoulder to where Sean was watching them with poorly concealed interest.

“I don't doubt that son.” Paid said, his eyes narrowing slightly. 

Nick scanned the room. Now wasn't the time or the place but equally well he knew that sooner or later he’d have to say something. He only hoped he had enough to convince Paddy.

“But tonight’s a party Nicky. Come and see me tomorrow eh.” Paddy patted Nick on the cheek, a smile on his face, but a coldness in his eyes. It wasn't a request. “ You enjoy your night son.”

**……….**

The next few weeks Nick constantly felt on high alert, just waiting for the other shoe to drop. The day after the party Paddy had summoned him. He’d had no choice but to take everything he’d found to him. Paddy had listened patiently, giving nothing away. When Nick had finished his only response was to comment that Nick had done well to spot the issue and to leave it with him. It was a clear dismissal. He’d been unable to leave without saying one last thing.

“I know it looks like me, but I swear it’s not Paddy.” Nick had said 

“Oh I know that son. You're far too moral for that.” Paddy had said, not even looking up from the pile of papers on his desk. It hadn't felt like a compliment.

Nearly three weeks later and Nick was still obsessing over what Paddy would do. It appeared that the answer was nothing. Yet. 

It didn't help that Paddy seemed to be actively avoiding him, and as the days passed Nick couldn't help but wonder if Paddy had meant what he’d said, wondered if Paddy still trusted him.

Then Paddy called a meeting. Seemingly out of nowhere. A meeting in a warehouse in a disused industrial estate.

Nick was one of the last to arrive at the meeting, perhaps at least in part due to his reluctance to find out what was going on. As he arrived Mikey had joined him, shoulder bumping him and asking him if he knew what the fuck was going on. Nick didn't reply. How could he put into words the cold feeling in his gut? He thought Paddy believed him, was almost sure of it, but there was still a tiny doubt in his mind. With that doubt came fear, not fear for himself, but fear for what would become of his sisters if Paddy believed Sean over him. He didn't fight the feeling, letting it flood over him, filling his system with adrenalin because one thing was certain, if things went badly he’d need it to take everything they threw at him. He’d need to survive so he could kill Sean with his own bare hands. Just the thought flooded him with anger, washing the fear away in its path. It was the kind of anger that Nick had always tried to keep in check. This time he didn't.

Mikey, clearly sensing his mood, said nothing as the stepped into the cool interior, the old metal doors clanging behind them loudly. It was dim inside the building, the only light filtering through the cracked windows high up in the walls, and the room was largely empty, if you didn't count the twenty or so mobsters crowded in the center. Paddy Whelan stood on a slightly raised platform and beside him stood Sean Doyle, a smirk on his face. Behind them was a bare concrete wall and a large hook on a thick metal chain swung gently from the ceiling, like the world’s most ominous metronome. Nick braced himself for the oncoming storm.

“All I have ever asked of you is loyalty.” Paddy said, his voice frighteningly cold. Nick tried to focus past the buzzing in his ears. “But one of you has chosen to betray me and the rest of you need to see how we deal with such betrayal.”

If anything Sean’s smirk deepened. 

“How we treat those that try and steal from us.” Paddy continued. Sean was looking right at Nick. “and worse still try to lay the blame on others.”

Nick saw the exact moment that what Paddy had just said dawned on Sean. His smile faded as Nick dragged in a deep breath. 

In almost slow motion Paddy turned to Sean and back handed him so hard he fell to the floor.

“Your mistake, boy, was to take me for a fool.” Paddy spat at Sean before nodding to his bodyguards. “String him up.”

“The rest of you’d do well to remember, I’ll not let even my own flesh and blood escape paying their dues.” Paddy shouted as Sean was dragged to his feet, a hand clamped over his mouth,

Amidst murmurs of shock from everyone present, Paddy walked towards Nick, a tight smile on his face. He put his arm around Nick’s shoulder as he led him towards where Sean was being held.

“Don't forget Nicky, this one planned for it to be you in his place. You bear that in mind son.” Paddy whispered in his ear. Nick’s hands clenched into fists. “Only right you be the one to mess up his pretty face.”

Paddy let Nick go and signalled to the others it was time to leave. Everyone filed out silently. Nick was left alone with Sean and the two bodyguards who bound Sean’s hands and hung him from the metal hook by his wrists. The only other person who stayed was Mikey; his boyhood friend hadn't left his side.

Sean looked at him defiantly, a sneer on his face. The look screamed ‘I know you don't have the stones, O’Flaherty’. The last vestiges of Nick’s self control snapped like an overstretched rubber band. Anger overwhelmed him, anger at what Sean had done, anger at what could've become of his family. He didn't even know he’d swung his arm until his fist connected with bone sending shockwaves up his arm. He was too far under, he was drowning, everything he’d been keeping inside rushing to the forefront, everything he’d lost and sacrificed and Sean Doyle was right there for him to take it out on. So he did.

It took Mikey’s hand, firm and unyielding on his shoulder to stop him.

“I’ll take it from here Nicky.” Mikey said, his voice breaking through the red mist in Nick’s mind.

Nick stepped back and blinked back to awareness. Paddy was long gone, seemingly satisfied with Nick’s response. He saw what he’d done and the bile rose to the back of his throat. Sean’s face was a bloody mess of cuts and bruises already starting to form, his nose clearly broken and bleeding. Nick stood frozen to the spot, horror paralysing him. Horror at what he’d done and worse, what he was becoming. 

He turned to look at Mikey, wide eyed and breaths coming in harsh pants.

Mikey just nodded, solid and dependable as he'd always been.

“Your father would be proud,” Sean choked out before spitting out a mouthful of blood, “just like Brian O’ fucking Flaherty. Apple don't fall far from the tree.”

It took everything Nick had not to flinch as the words struck home. Sean was right, he was becoming the one thing he’d always promised himself he wouldn't. His father.

“Take care of him Mikey.” Nick said, struggling to keep his voice steady. Then he turned and walked away.

……….

Nick walked, just walked and walked for hours. Sean’s words echoed in his head. With every step his chest felt tighter and every breath burned. Eventually it became too much to bear.

He stumbled into an alley, his back hitting the rough brick wall hard as he struggled to breathe. All he’d ever wanted to do was to keep his sisters safe. To protect them. All he’d ever done was for them but if the price was turning into something worse than his father, was it even worth it?

Nick gulped in air as he slid down the wall, landing on his knees, his expensive pants soaking up dirty water from the puddles beneath him. He ground the heels of his palms into his eyes, so hard he saw spots behind his eyelids. The pain at least cleared his mind a little.

Falling back against the wall Nick opened his eyes, arms falling limply to his sides. This was his reality, he saw that now. If he stayed in Boston there was only one direction his life could go. Sooner or later it would stop bothering him, he’d lose himself and then, he’d truly be Brian O’Flaherty’s son.

Nick’s head slumped as tears stung his eyes. Tears of anger and frustration and perhaps tears to mourn the person he’d wanted to be. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of his hands, shaking, cracked and bruised, and spattered with someone else’s blood. Just the sight of it made him wretch, made him heave into a pile of trash until his stomach was empty.

A memory flashed back to him, old and faded around the edges. He must have been about four or five at most and he’d seen his father in his uniform. He remembered how he’d sworn to himself that when he grew up he’d be a hero just like his father, a man whose only job was to protect others. Of course that was before he’d been old enough to know what his father truly was, before he’d been sent out to retrieve his father from the local bars, before his only goal had become to be fast enough to get home first. 

Nick wondered what had become of that boy. Had Brian O’Flaherty beaten all his hopes and dreams out of him? Had Paddy Whelan manipulated all his morals out of him? Worse still, had he let him?

Shakily Nick reached into his pocket and took out his wallet, reaching inside to pull a crumpled flier from it's depths. It had been folded so many times it was almost impossible to see what it was. Carefully Nick smoothed it out on his thighs.

He remembered the day they'd come to his High School, only a few months ago, two marines, pristine in their dress uniforms. He’d played along with Mikey and the others when they’d laughed at what they’d said, all the time listening intently to their words. It hadn't been the talk of adventure and travel that had caught his attention, it had been when they spoke of honour and integrity, and of brotherhood. Semper Fi. 

After everyone had left Nick had circled back and slipped one of the discarded fliers into his pocket. At the time he hadn't known why. Now as he looked at the creased faces of uniformed marines on the shiny paper, finally, he did.

………

“Were you going to tell me Nicky? Or were you just gonna run?” 

Nick had been so occupied with his thoughts that he hadn't even heard Paddy approach, or perhaps it was just he’d been expecting him, wanting him to find him. After all it was the park from Paddy’s childhood that Nick had chosen to sit in, his sign up instruction gripped tightly in his hand.

“I can't be want you want.” Nick said, staring resolutely at the rusted skeleton of the old swing set.

“Ah Nicky, you always were too moral for the likes of us “ Paddy sighed. 

Nick glanced out of the corner of his eye to see Paddy mirroring his position, a look of sadness on his face coupled with a rueful smile.

“No matter how hard I tried to change that.” Paddy added with a mirthless laugh.

“I'm sorry.” 

And in a strange way Nick was. Paddy had looked out for him in ways no one had before. He’d never forget that.

“Ah don't be, son.” Paddy placed a hand on his shoulder, still looking straight ahead. “The Navy’s lucky to have you.”

Naturally, Paddy knew without Nick having to tell him. For once it was a relief he had his fingers in so many pies.

“I’ll look after the girls, keep ‘em safe but I’ve got one last favour to ask of you in return.” Paddy said, angling his body to look at him. Nick turned to meet his gaze, an eyebrow raised in question. “Let me take you to the airport, let me sort out your flight.” 

Nick’s jaw dropped for a second before he broke into a grin.

“I can do that Paddy.” He replied.

Paddy nodded and stood, dusting his trousers down before heading toward the two large men standing at the park gate like stone sentinels. Just before he reached them, Paddy turned, a wicked smile on his face.

“Oh and Nicky. You lose that Claddagh, I’ll break your legs.” He said, eyes dancing with mischief.

“I'll bear that in mind Paddy.” Nick replied solemnly.

“You do that kiddo, you do that.”

……..

Nick sat on the bench, his back ramrod straight, any other position being far too painful for his ribs’ current state. It was typical that amidst his father screaming at him for running away from his responsibilities to the family, he would go out of his way to leave his son with his own special type of parting gift. This time though, Brian O’Flaherty hadn't counted on Nick wanting to make a point of his own. He certainly hadn't expected his son’s last words to him to be a growled threat that Paddy would do a lot worse to him if he laid a hand on the girls. Nick knew it was the truth. Paddy had assured him of that as he waved him off at the airport; and Paddy may be many things, but he was certainly a man of his word. His sister's would be safe. The very thought give him a sense of calm as he watched the sea of young men surrounding him, all waiting for the same thing, the bus to Parris Island, their final destination.

As he sat like a statue he felt eyes on him, his posture and the rapidly developing black eye was bound to draw attention and he knew that many of those around him were watching him, sizing him up. He couldn't find it in himself to care. He hadn't come here to make friends, he'd come because it was his last chance to become the kind of man he wanted to be. A good man.

“Check him out. Thinks he’s a marine already,” a skinny guy with a sharp, beak like nose, said to his friend looking straight at Nick. Both of them laughed.

Nick just clenched his jaw and stared straight ahead. Laugh at him, be scared of him, as some of the faces undoubtedly were, it really didn't bother him. He’d been through worse. His eye caught on a solid looking guy with messy brown hair leaning nonchalantly against the wall. The guy looked back, utterly unfazed and winked, a small smile playing on his lips. There was something about him that was so different to the others and, for someone like Nick who was incredibly adept at reading people after years of predicting his father’s moods, that difference screamed at him. He wasn't looking at him in judgement or even fear, he was looking at Nick with interest, as if Nick was someone he wanted to get to know. Nick chose to ignore him, he chose to ignore them all.

They didn't have to wait long before a drill sergeant ordered them onto the bus. Without a word Nick grabbed his bag and headed out.

As he settled into his window seat, one of the perks of being the first on the bus, Nick noticed the way everyone seemed to be avoiding taking the seat next to him. In a way it was satisfying, they were wary of him already. It was what he wanted. Eventually a nondescript looking guy with mousey blonde hair plucked up the courage to try and join him. He didn't get a chance. 

“Just keep movin’” The man behind him growled, his voice low and threatening.

The guy froze on the spot before making his mind up and beating a hasty retreat.

“Damn straight. Off you go blondie.” 

Nick soon realised it was the same dark haired guy he’d noticed earlier behind the voice. A guy who was currently flapping his hands as the blonde hurried away, a wicked smirk on his face. Nick felt his lips quirk.

“Hey.” The guy said as he flopped down on the seat next to Nick “I'm Ty, Ty Grady.”

Ty offered a hand out and Nick moved to shake hands he realised his mistake; his ribs twinged painfully and he couldn't quite hide his wince.

“Nick O’Flaherty.” He gritted out, trying, as ever, to mask the pain.

Ty just grinned back at him, a small raising of his eyebrow the only sign that he’d seen Nick’s discomfort for what it was.

The guy sitting in front of them turned and peered through the gap between the seat backs, a sneer on his face. It was beak nose, the same guy who’d laughed at him earlier. Nick braced himself for the next caustic comment. It never came though. Ty held up his hand, a snarl on his lips.

“I’d turn the fuck back around if I were you unless you wanna arrive with fewer teeth than you started with.” He growled.

Beak nose visibly blanched and turned back, leaving Nick to blink back the surprise. This guy, this stranger, had stood up for him, had defended him when they’d only just met. That sort of thing didn't happen to Nick. Ever. Even Paddy, who’d always had his back, had never done that. With Paddy, Nick was under no illusion it was because he expected something in return, be it loyalty or a favour of some sort.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Ty said as he lounged back into his seat, looking perfectly at ease.

“So,” Ty continued, not a trace of the dangerous gravel in his voice anymore, “how come you didn't fight back?”

Ty glanced pointedy at Nick’s unmarked hands in a way that had him remembering the first time he’d met Paddy Whelan. This time he had a different answer.

“I did,” Nick said, deadpan, “I used a baseball bat.”

Ty paused for a second, narrowing his eyes as he looked at Nick, before breaking into raucous laughter so loud it had everyone turning to look. Ty was laughing so hard he had to hold his stomach and it was infectious, Nick was powerless to resist. The laugh burst out of his lips, it hurt his ribs like fuck but he didn't care, he couldn't stop laughing.

Somewhere in the back of his mind a thought struck him; he’d tried to work Ty out when he first seen him but now he knew what he was. Ty Grady was a goddamn beacon, a bright shining beacon guiding Nick to where he needed to be, to the place he would finally belong.

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you've got this far - thank you for reading and feel free to shout at me - I probably deserve it x


End file.
